


Untitled

by distorted_prose



Category: Maurice (1987), Maurice - E. M. Forster
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:10:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distorted_prose/pseuds/distorted_prose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which indecision and Clive's self-reproach fail him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

Climbing back into his own bed, Clive lay deeply awake several moments, eyes turned to the ceiling, full of mental reproach for himself. He had begged space in his bed with the idea of getting warm, the comfortable lull of another man's breathing, but instead had lain rigid, breath held with a gaping tension between the two bodies that he could not - _would not_ \- breach...  
  
In the next room Maurice lay, almost as motionless - debating but not _thinking_ ; something almost like panic as the cold floor against his feet tightened his chest and his hand closed about the door handle.  
  
"Clive-" a glitter of eyes showed him to be awake.  
The supine figure started "Maurice..." it whispered in answer, unquestioning.  
" —It's this chill. When you left it only felt worse".  
Clive knew what he was asking and could not suppress a thrill that made him shudder.  
Maurice seemed frozen, standing in the weakest of lights from the door and shivering from the cold air around him. When he climbed in beside him, he could feel the brittle chill of his skin raised in bumps on his arms and legs, the stubble of hairs stood rigid.  
All of a sudden he twisted his head to lie between his collar and jaw, bringing them breast to breast, hearts thudding, warming his throat. His mouth was so soft at first that Clive did not feel it - merely a loose lock of hair against his chin... A knot tightened inside of him as Maurice's lips slid over the corner of his mouth to kiss him, and more than that, almost to _taste_ him— For a moment he felt so breathlessly startled, stunned... It was when Clive plunged his hand beneath Maurice’s shirt, finding the nipples to be cold and hard against his fingers that he knew any measure of self-control he had had was lost to him; reciprocation as his final vice, his sin . . .  
He let all his breath escape from him as Hall returned the gesture, stroking, softly testing— Clive panicked silently, distractedly; he could not keep on breaking boundaries, tearing down the foundations of fortresses he had built _for his own good!_ For the sake of others! The anguish escaped him as a moan as Hall's lips found purchase against his chest, slick and parted; tongue whetting peaked nipples and biting! Almost primitive!  
  
Clive’s fingers curled through his hair when he should have been forcing him physically from the bed; they slid to the nape of his neck when they should have clawed, fighting tooth and nail for- _For_ — _?_  
Something more than the breathless moan from the back of his throat as Hall's tongue traced a line below navel, below tugged waistband. Guttural and choked off. He didn't _mean_ to incline his body, dipping his hips to soft hands and warm kisses... He had never been this exposed and this _vulnerable_ to anyone in his life - he was so malleable; he couldn't feel past the heat of their bodies, could not act other than to respond. Caress blindly. Hold- _cling_ as he was taken so quietly, heatedly, _mindlessly!_ by another man. No time, no space and no reason. Silence as he bucked against his mouth: open, exposed, undone. 

Sound. Hall had touched himself, shuddering against the sheets and suffocating a moan against his slick thigh.  
Clive still clasped his neck, trembling. "Kiss me" he whispered.  
"But my mouth —"  
Salt, when he licked him. The tart depravity of tasting himself in the moist heat of another's mouth. He could not stop trembling, could not stem the insistent fear and _need_... Damned, like nothing else and locked in addictive devotion to vice and ecstasy and . . . Maurice.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I posted this here: http://rarelitslash.livejournal.com/144507.html (a number of years ago...)  
> There's slight variation in that I've tidied this version up a little. Comments are welcome : )


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